Thicker Than Water
by HeathyrFeathyr
Summary: She is being hunted. But by who, and why? Robin is forced to help an innocent girl with not-so-innocent ties all while being pinned as a murderer by the Sheriff. Please review!
1. Hunted

She ran faster than she thought she possibly could. Leaves crunched and twigs snapped as she flew through the forest, and over her heavy breathing she could still hear the cat calls and yelling. They were closer than they had ever been before. This time, she thought, she wouldn't get away.

Arrows flew towards her, two, three at a time, grazing her ankles as she ran. The morning dew on the trees and grass of Sherwood Forest made her slip at every turn. She turned right, then right again. Arrows continued to chase her followed by the voices of the men who wanted her dead. And, as she paused to contemplate her next turn, she felt it. Fire. Shooting up from her thigh then down through her knee, followed by the warmth of blood trickling down. She had no time. She turned left at a huge oak tree and spun round to sit on the other side of it, crawling under a shrub that grew at its roots and curled up in a ball. After a few moments of pep talk, she finally looked down to see the arrow jutting out of the back of her right thigh. The sight was unbearable. She could never look at blood – especially her own – and teamed with the shortness of breath and exhaustion, it was no time at all before she felt herself fading away into a fainting spell. She was startled back to consciousness by the hand that tightly covered her mouth.

"Don't make a sound." The low voice warned. Every muscle tightened up and admitted defeat. Her clear blue eyes slowly looked up to see the man who had crawled in after her, and she was shocked to see he held no anger or victory. Those brown eyes were filled with kindness and pity. She reached up to touch his face, her hand grazing his beard. "Don't take this personally." He whispered as he pulled out a strip of cloth. She opened her mouth to question him, but he quickly covered it again, shaking his head. As he tied the blindfold over her eyes, she knew the only choice was to trust this man.

Gingerly they walked, crushing dead leaves on the ground and kicking over acorns. They had made so many turns she couldn't even keep track of where they had come from. Even if she was from around Sherwood Forest, it would be impossible to retrace these steps. Suddenly, the cloth was pulled off. The sunlight that gleamed through the tree tops stung her pupils and, as they adjusted to the light, she flinched back, triggering intense pain in her leg where the arrow still protruded. But her biggest concerns at the moment were the six unfamiliar faces staring back at her. They stood within what looked to be a room built into the ground of the forest itself, beds and tables inside a hill. The man who had found her placed his hand softly between her shoulder blades. "It's alright now," he said, "you're safe with us."

All stood still save for the man at the back of the room. He put down his bow and walked towards the girl. "Allan, who is this?" he asked, looking at the man next to her. He shook his head.

"I've no clue. I just saw her running through the woods, men shootin at 'er. Figured I had to help." The man then turned his eyes to look at the girl. He put on a warm smile and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Well," he grinned, "know that you are safe now. You are under the protection of Robin Hood! I am Robin, and this man who saved you is Allan-a-Dale. Who are you?" She gazed at Allan thankfully and then went back to Robin.

"My name is Lydia. I have come from the south – I need to get to Nottingham." Robin nodded and began to speak, but was interrupted by a blond sitting on a table.

"Nottingham! What could you possibly want in Nottingham! Turn round love, there's no good there!"

"Much!" shouted Robin as he glared a warning. "Excuse him… what brings you to the other side of England just to get to Nottingham?" Lydia began to answer but the words morphed into a gasp of pain. The arrow felt as if it was digging deeper. Robin shushed her softly and helped her sit on the ground. "Who did this to you?"

Lydia just shook her head. Everyone within the room stepped closer to her. From the crowd broke a girl, the only girl, with wet cloths and a bottle in her hand. She propped Lydia's leg up on to the top of her knee. "My name is Djaq. I can mend this if you let me." She said, soaking the strips in the fluid from her bottle. Djaq put her left hand on the arrow and grabbed it firmly, cloth in the opposite hand, eyes fixed onto Lydia's. "Tell me, Lydia," she whispered as if it were a secret, "Are you brave?"

"I like to think so." Lydia said unsurely. At that moment Djaq tugged the arrow from her flesh, the tip dragging part of her leg out with it. She shrieked so loudly neighboring birds fluttered in surprise. Blood began to rush out; Djaq quickly tied the wet bandage around her thigh tightly and put on more strips to cut off the circulation. Robin gently stroked her hair and repeated his question: "Who did this to you?"

Lydia leaned back to rest her head on his shoulder. She could feel his toned body through his shirt – his strength was comforting. "I don't know. I just don't know. They have been trying for months…"

"Well," Robin said as he put his arms around her. "You are safe now. We will be sure of that." A rather large man then sat next to Lydia, handing her a bowl of lukewarm stew and a tarnished spoon. She thanked him but still watched him warily. "This is Little John." Robin said softly to her.

"What business do you have in Nottingham?" Little John spoke carefully. His words were so gentle for his size. Lydia stirred the spoon in circles in the bowl but couldn't bring herself to eat – her nerves would never allow it. Slowly she put it down, but never took her eyes off of the food.

"My uncle is there. I hear… I hear he knows the Sheriff, or holds a place in the castle or something. I don't know – I haven't seen him in years. It's just what my father used to say and so I hoped he could help get me protection." Little John then inquired about her father's location. Lydia took in a deep breath, looked up, and sighed heavily. "They killed him. These archers – they took his life and now they are after me."

"Why?" Much suddenly asked, hopping up from the table. "You're what, twenty? What have you possibly done?" Allan-a-Dale then put his hand hard against Much's chest.

"Who said she's guilty of something, eh?"

"I can't imagine," Lydia whispered, "Really. My father, he was a priest. Renounced our family title, moved to the south, and gave away every spare penny we had to the less fortunate. His life was devoted to God." She sat up, and turned to Robin. "If the legends about you I hear are true, and you are Robin of Locksley… he would be so much like you. Then, one day in the middle of service, an arrow shoots through a window and straight….. straight into his heart. Since that day I have been hunted down." Her eyes began to glisten with sorrow and tears.

"I tell you what," Robin said, rubbing her cheek softly with his thumb, "Allan, Will and I will take you to Nottingham and find your uncle. Ensure your safety." Again, Much's voice broke the calm.

"Why should Will go? Why not me?" He shot a glare to Will who in return shrugged his shoulders to Robin. The legendary Hood pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

"Right: Much, Allan, and I will take you to Nottingham. But for tonight, you are resting here with us. You are in no shape to travel."

"No, please." Lydia rebutted. "I have to find my uncle." Robin looked to Djaq, who tossed the idea about in her head.

"Well," she thought aloud, "If you keep the wound clean and carry her if it bleeds heavily, I don't see a problem medically."

"So we go now." Lydia said to Robin. He smirked but did not reply. She then turned to Much and slowly stood, struggling and using Little John's help. "Much…. Will you come now?" Much looked for the words, not wanting to cross his master's wishes. Robin laughed and said: "I love your persistence. If you get better and know how to fight, I would love to have you as part of the gang."

"We'll see." She answered laughingly, still unsure of the wonder of this Robin Hood. The stories had bled down to where she lives of his adventures – but surely they were no more than hype. Nonetheless, he would take her to Nottingham. So, as the men prepared some supplies, she begged herself to just stay strong. A simple wound won't allow her to cry in front of Robin Hood.


	2. Family Ties

Bandages stained red, the group entered Nottingham quickly and quietly. If they kept a low profile, cruising the city would be no harder than cooking a meal. Lydia began to worry about the blood staining her dress, but still wanted to dismiss such trifles. You can't complain about such a thing in the presence of Robin of Locksley. With his reputation, of course – but especially with his wonderful smile. She had to impress such an impressive man. Allan snapped her out of her daydreaming of the archer. "So he is in the castle, yeah?"

"Um… y-yeah I think." She stuttered sheepishly. Robin nodded slowly.

"We can get you to the gate, but we are wanted men around here. We can't go in with you." Lydia agreed – she knew they were outlaws by all the looking over their shoulders. Robin took her hand and led the way. They filed in a line through the crowds of the market square and kept their faces low. All the sights and sounds were rather invigorating and exciting – booths were set up and voices hollered prices from all around the square. Children played and carts of fresh goods were brought in to sell. It was easy to get caught up in the bustle of civilians purchasing produce and dying cloth. And that is exactly what Allan did. Looking elsewhere, he ran straight into the back of Much.

"Oi!" Much shouted, "What you doing, mate?" Allan started to apologize as Robin yelled to hush his companion.

"Much! Hush!" he hollered. A voice rose above all of these, however.

"Hood!" the three men fell silent and the people quickly fled the square. Civilians knew to avoid that voice, that tone, that scowl. As they rushed out of the market square, they were soon displaced by guards from Nottingham castle.

"Are you happy now?" Allan remarked to Much, who just sneered. From between two guards' shoulders came a tall man, his black hair lightly moving in the wind. His hard blue eyes fell on Robin as he crossed his arms.

"I was waiting to see how long it would take to see your face again. You have been hiding in the trees for quite some time." Robin rolled his eyes and looked to Lydia.

"It's a shame that upon your first arrival to Nottingham it has to be ruined by meeting Gisborne." Her blue eyes locked onto his and she quickly pulled her hand from Robin's.

"Gisborne? Sir Guy of Gisborne?" without so much as a look back to the outlaws she ran towards the guards. Robin protested and told her to come back. "He's dangerous!" The archer pleaded. Lydia put her hand slowly to Guy's face and smiled. Guy scanned her face in doubt but knew it to be true.

"Dangerous?" Lydia laughed, "This is my Uncle Guy!"

"Lydia… how you've grown…" Guy of Gisborne muttered as he held her shoulders. A smile slowly broke out. "My lovely niece!" He held her tightly to his chest in a warm hug, but glared over her shoulder to Hood and his men. "You have gone to kidnapping my family, have you?"

"Kidna – she can't be related to someone so horrid!" Much cried.

"Renounced the family name…." Robin muttered. "You're a Gisborne. A distant relative that I never knew because you weren't in Locksley."

Lydia just grinned. "Please, let us repay you for saving my life." Guy cocked his head and looked over Allan, Much, and Robin.

"Saving her life? I doubt it. If I find a single hair on her misplaced you are responsible, Hood."

"She's in trouble, Gisborne." Robin said, disregarding the last statement. "Somebody wants her dead. My men found her running in the woods with an arrow in her." Guy sneered.

"If they aren't out of the city walls in two minutes…. Kill them." He turned to his officer, who nodded, and drew his sword followed by the other guards. Guy placed his hand on the back of Lydia's neck, kissed her temple, and led her through the wave of armored protectors to the castle. Robin rolled his eyes. "Let's go." He huffed. The three men retreated and left Nottingham, bound back to Sherwood, but Robin knew it would not be the last time he helped the poor girl of Gisborne.


	3. Rainbow Shower

"Oh, this is delicious!" The Sheriff cried, eying Lydia up and down with a disturbing grin. He sat comfortably in his throne as the Gisbornes stood before him. The Sheriff shifted his eyes over the guards, the stair cases, the floor. "So, you are telling me that the relative of a high official of England has been found with outlaws – Hood no less – injured by an arrow and coming to Nottingham to seek protection." The Sheriff stood and clapped his hands. "Splendid."

"I suppose it's a rough outline, but it's not the facts." Lydia hardly stated. Guy squeezed her hand to silence her as the Sheriff cocked his head sideways.

"Oh. Oh oh oh oh…. Oh. You want to support outlaws then, do you?" She held her gaze.

"Robin Hood and his men saved my life and gave their time to take me to my family. You left that part out." Lydia furrowed her eyebrows as the Sheriff laughed heartily.

"Guy – your entire family must be thick and incompetent." The Sheriff moved down to her level and stood inches from her face as Guy looked away. "You stupid oaf of a girl. I don't care what Hood did for you. I want him dead. And when people discover he shot down an innocent girl, family to Sir Guy, they will bring me his head." His sly smile disgusted her. Such a small and creepy man….

"Robin Hood did nothing wrong. I am in his debt!" Lydia argued. The Sheriff swiftly raised a hand to slap her when Guy pressed his hand against his chest.

"Don't you _dare_ ever touch her." He warned, his opposite hand on the hilt of his sword. The Sheriff licked his lips and wiggled his fingers.

"Just a warning. For the next time." The serpent like man whispered. He turned and sauntered back to his chair. "I will give word to the town criers…. Guy, I want you to keep this simpleton of a girl out of public eye for a while. I don't care what you do with her; just shut her up before I do." Guy closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out. The humiliation was too much, but he had to hold his tongue. Without a word, he took his niece's hand and led her up the stairs and out of the room. They walked in silence through the castle, their footsteps out of synch and reverberating off the stone walls. Sir Guy slowed down once they approached his chambers. He unlocked the door, but stood there without opening it.

"Uncle Guy?" Lydia asked softly. He snapped his head towards her and smiled.

"It's just been years since I have seen you." He whispered, opening the door and inviting her in. He instructed her to sit and show him her wound. She pulled up her dress and began to unwrap the soaked cloth strips - they were matted together with her blood. Guy gathered some medicinal goods and returned to examine her injury. He took a wet rag and began to blot away the blood as he sat on the floor, Lydia in a chair. As the wound became visible, he felt a pang of worry for her. "Tell me what happened." He quietly said. A few moments of silence passed.

"They murdered him. My father – your brother. Shot down in his own church a few months ago." She closed her eyes and could see the images coming back. The color from the stained glass window washed over the pews as her father read a sermon aloud. In an instant, the glass rained down in a rainbow of shards and her father screamed. Once the glass settled and she was brave enough to look up, she saw the arrow in his chest, dead center of his heart. It was all so fast, but so still now. "Now, every few days or weeks I will be anywhere doing anything and arrows just come at me."

Guy solemnly washed the rim of the wound. "I remember when he left. I was about nine at the time… he was already old enough to go south and join the clergy. My mother, God rest her, she never wanted him to leave." He chuckled a little. "Your aunt and I hid his clothes so it would take him longer to pack and leave. And then he wrote us about his wedding and the birth of a beautiful baby girl." He stood and discarded the bloody rags. While prepping a new wrapping, Lydia swam in nostalgia. "I remember," he continued when he returned to her side, "the first time I saw you. Rarely did I ever see you, but you are still the closest thing I have had to a child. The first time I held you as a teenager, I knew I wanted a daughter…." His voice trailed off. His own train of thought had led to a depressive halt. Lydia was not his daughter. He was alone. And left and the altar, never to be married to his love. Sir Guy shook the thought and wrapped her wound in silence.

"Uncle Guy," Lydia sighed, "I'm scared." She fidgeted her fingers and counted the times she had been attacked. How she had been run down like an animal in Sherwood, come home to find her house burning, and how she was nearly poisoned. Guy finished the dressing and slowly put her dress back down. He got up and stood behind her, resting his face in her soft black hair. They stayed in silence, neither of them wanting to speak about the terrifying and unsettling predicament. "Don't let him hurt Robin." She whispered to him. Guy abruptly turned from her and went to the window that overlooked the market square.

"He is the Sheriff." Guy muttered. He felt his niece's disappointed look across the room. Sighing, he faced her again and asked: "What color were the feathers on the arrow?" Lydia's face screwed up in confusion. "The arrow that did this to you," he pointed at her leg, "What color?"

She thought long and hard. "My best guess…. Yellow." She muttered. "I didn't have time for sightseeing, sorry. I was more concerned about living." Her sarcasm made her uncle raise his eyebrows in mild amusement.

"If it makes you feel better, Hood does not use yellow arrows." Sir Guy sat on the foot of his bed. "The Sheriff is spinning a web of lies."

"So then stop him." She bluntly replied without missing a beat. Guy chuckled and looked down at his hands.

"It's not nearly that easy…"


	4. Chains

That was enough. Absolutely, indefinitely, intolerably enough. This had to have been the thousandth time today she drew blood from this useless needlework, but apparently it's how a woman should spend her day. Making hopeless tapestries that required more bloodshed than the war in the Holy Land which would inevitably just wind up in a drawer somewhere. Lydia had to get out of the castle before she snapped. Sliding her shoes on, she stood slowly as not to cause more pain in her thigh. Who would have thought it would hurt more to _not_ have an arrow in you?

She flung her chamber door open and rushed down the hall without even waiting for it to close. Fresh air should do the trick, should clear her mind, and should give her more to do than the past two days of sitting in stone room. By the time she got to the staircase at the front door of the castle she was almost in a jog. The market square, and freedom, was so close! The entrance, though, was filled with men. Guards sauntered about carrying this and that and hitching a wagon to a pair of black horses. Her own uncle sat atop a white horse adjacent to the cart, barking at the men to hurry. The Sheriff's face was covered in an impatient sheet as he and his stallion waited restlessly at the gate. Lydia pretended to pay little attention to their activities as she wiggled between uniformed men towards the front gate but as she approached the exit the Sheriff's muscular horse stepped forward to halt her. Rolling her eyes, the Sheriff sneered.

"Where are you off to then, girl?" the disgust in his voice was too apparent to shrug off.

"I have to go buy more clothes. This is the only dress I have; I lost my luggage in the woods on the way over. And, unlike some people here," she scanned him up and down slowly, "I care about the way I smell." The Sheriff took a quick sniff to recover his pride. He had to share this humiliation.

"Gisborne!" he yelled. Sir Guy's head snapped over and looked between his superior and his niece as he slowly dismounted. While walking over, the Sheriff took a hit at him, "Your pet is out of its cage." Gisborne closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. _Sticks and stones,_ he told himself.

"Lydia, what are you doing out here? Go inside – it isn't safe –"

"Trust me, Uncle Guy; it's much more boring than it is safe." She knew he was the only person she could speak her mind to. Whether or not it would help her, at least the words were off her chest. Guy put his hand on her shoulder and began to push Lydia round to head back inside but she would not budge.

"I gave you plenty of frames and thread to do your needlework –"

"And I have plenty of pictures of the ugliest birds you will ever see," she coldly retorted as her eyes shifted to the Sheriff, "I need to go outside."

"Well you can't." was Sir Guy's blunt reply as he squeezed her shoulder. When she asked why, he simply instructed one of the guards to escort her back indoors. She scoffed.

"Since when is it a crime to go buy a dress or smell the flowers in the fields? I don't see any chains holding me inside this castle." The Sheriff's devilish grin made her wish she had phrased that differently.

"Am I afraid to chain you up inside? A clue: no." The guard began to pull her back.

"I came here to be protected, not imprisoned! Just let me come with you, then I get to leave and you know I am safe –"

"Go inside, now!" Sir Guy commanded. "I will straighten you out when I return from Locksley." And with that, he leaped back up onto his horse and strode it quickly out, followed by the Sheriff and the cart. Minutes of silence passed as the men rode out of Nottingham and up the trail to the village. The Sheriff used this opportunity to oppress Sir Guy yet again.

"Has you trained, doesn't she? Your own pet telling you what hurdles to leap over." His usual smug chuckle made Guy frown and furrow his brow.

"Her father was weak. She had no need to hold her tongue around him and she has yet to learn it is different with me." He took his horse and increased his speed to be a few steps ahead of his boss. The Sheriff soon matched him.

"Is it, Gisborne? Or will I have to keep her quiet while the criers spread the word about Hood?" he sniffed and let the vague threat marinate for a moment. "Because believe you me, I would trade several pretty young girls to have Hood's life. If your little vermin refuses the allegations, I will have no choice but to silence her – "

"Lydia will not be a problem." Guy growled between clenched teeth. He snapped the reigns and charged forward towards Locksley, preparing to take his frustration out on the tax payers.

Luckily, every guard in Nottingham was stupid. As Lydia snaked her way through the corridors to freedom, it seemed as though was no resistance. The only issue arose when she got to the front gate. A tall and gruff man stood between her and fresh air. He explained, rather rudely, that Guy was very insistent about her confinement. For her safety, so he claimed.

"I have to get medicine for my leg." She whimpered, "This pain…. It's getting so much worse, I need to treat it."

"The Sheriff's doctor will treat you –"The guard grumbled.

"He doesn't know a thing!" she cried while wincing at the wave of pain that supposedly over took her. The guard rubbed his beard and, with reluctance, told her to be quick. He raised the door and let her out into Nottingham. But she had no intention of being quick or staying in the city. So far as she could see, Nottingham had no interest in keeping her safe, but the generous outlaws did. If she could strike a deal with Robin, then she could get the threat on her life wiped away and probably for only a small price which she could work off of her Uncle Guy. Robin of Locksley was her answer, not stone walls. She had to get to Locksley to beg him for help – she just hoped she would not run into Guy or the Sheriff.


	5. The Greater Good

"You have had three weeks!" barked Sir Guy as he shoved over the table, knocking pitchers of water and bowls of bread to the dirt floor. "You are in debt to England."

The farmer fell to his knees, trying his hardest not to look at his children huddled on the other side of the room. "Sir Guy… we have had too much rain! There is no way I could have produced 45 crowns worth of produce. Please, give me one more week-"Guy lunged forward and wrapped his gloved hand around the man's neck.

"Time's up." He whispered, reaching to his sword with the other hand. As the man's eyes squeezed shut in fear, he heard a snap behind him. He looked up to see Sir Guy's expression of shock. They both looked to the door way to see Robin Hood, bow pulled taught and ready to fire again.

"Let him go, Gisborne! He hasn't got the money." Guy pushed the man over and drew his sword to the outlaw.

"Surely, Hood, even you understand taxes." His dirty sneer fell flat when he saw past his enemy, when he saw the guards fending off skilled outlaws from raiding the cart. He watched as Little John cleared away five men with one swing of his stick. Guy closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the hilt. As he swung it parallel to the floor to make the first strike, three arrows came rushing in to the room, just missing Guy and grazing Robin's arm. Hood turned to the outdoors where he saw something unbelievable. A shower of arrows destined for the flesh of his and Gisborne's men alike.

"Looks like we have a common enemy." He muttered with his Irish touch on words. The men ran outside and began protecting their own, Hood's men running to cover with civilians and Gisborne's men mounting their horses and cowering in the cart to retreat to Nottingham. The Sheriff was long gone. Robin ran inside one of the cottages and hunkered below the window, trying to get a sight of where the archers were hidden. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, his eyes grew wide with surprise. "Lydia!" he exclaimed, "What the hell are you doing here?" He pulled her close to him as they both sat cautiously out of view.

"I had to find you. You have to help me stop these men – my Uncle, he can't do anything. He won't. The Sheriff has his own agenda." Robin nodded but still seemed out of it a bit. "I was looking for you…. I need your help, yours, Allan's, Much's, everyone's."

"You shouldn't have come out here." The outlaw scolded, "You put hundreds of people in danger."

"Well I refuse to be a prisoner in the castle! Besides, I had to warn you… the Sheriff told the criers you are the one who shot me." Robin nearly stood but then remembered he had to be covered.

"What?" he cried, licking his lips. He shook his head. "Come on, we have to get you out of here." He grabbed her hand and pulled her outside, running low. "Will! You're in charge, get these archers back away from Locksley!" They paused long enough for Will Scarlett to nod and then continued running, faster and faster until they reached the road to Nottingham. The moment they were out of danger, Lydia let out a cry and fell to the ground, clutching her leg through her dress. The fabric was turning dark red. Robin cupped his hands around her face and put his nose to hers. "We have to get you back to Gisborne. He won't let anything happen to you." He began to pick the girl up, but she pushed him off.

"He won't help the issue end, either. His priorities are shared with the Sheriff, and he wants to chain me up!" She sat still as Robin of Locksley ran his fingers through her hair and tucked it behind her ear.

"I will resolve this. And I will come see you. But I have many things to do as well. And as useless as the Sheriff's men seem, you will be safe in Nottingham. Gisborne may be a bad man, but he is protective. That I promise you." Lydia sighed and wrapped her delicate arms around his neck, allowing him to pick her up and carry her back to Gisborne. She just prayed they would return before her uncle noticed she was gone.

Gisborne sat on the edge of his bed and wiped the wound one more time. For a simple scratch on his hand, the bleeding refused to slow. He rested his elbows atop his knees and dropped his face to his hands. Gently kneading it, he let out a long breath. The Sheriff would be the death of him, he had known for a while now, but it seemed to be a truth that will be realized soon. He already does the work for him grudgingly, but now he could finally have a daughter to look after. Sort of. Either way, she was his outlet for affection. But he was in the center of a tug of war – duty to his country, or to his feelings. He stood and wiped the hair from his eyes. Now was not the time to make such a hasty choice. He was frustrated and full of agitation from his failed expedition to Locksley. He needed to see Lydia, he needed to push aside his worries.

Robin sat next to Lydia as she lay in her bed, thoughts racing. He put his hand on top of hers. "I know how you want to see him. I know what you feel. But he is a killer." He spoke so softly for such accusations. She shook her head.

"He is no murderer, he is an army official. Death is bound to happen. Haven't you killed people, Robin?" The moment their eyes met, he looked away. But their exchange was interrupted by a knock at the door. Robin hurriedly slipped under her bed and whispered for her to keep his presence a secret. "C-come in." she stuttered. The door slowly opened and Sir Guy entered, obviously distraught. Slowly, even slower than he opened it, he shut her chamber door. Neither of them said a word as he made his way across the room. He stopped momentarily to brush his fingers across the feather pen on her desk and then made his way to her bed. Lydia looked up silently as he took her hand in his and kissed it, and then he made his way around to the other side and lay down next to her. With a long sigh Sir Guy of Gisborne removed his gloves and interlaced his fingers on top of his chest. Silence formed a wall between them.

"I'm so sorry," he softly whispered as his eyes traced the lines of the canopy over the bed, "I'm so sorry about the way I fussed at you earlier in the courtyard." He let one of his hands fall and left it open between him and his niece, inviting her to take his hand. She didn't even look at it. Guy clenched his hand up. "Are you not sorry for the way you disrespected the Sheriff?"

"He disrespected me and the man who saved my life. I have no regrets."

"He has killed people before, Lydia. Innocent people. Hood is not some valiant man on a mission; he has blood on his record. He deserves to pay for his crimes against man." His tone was hardening a bit. Abruptly, she sat up and turned to him.

"And you?" They held eye contact but neither of them moved. "Your record, Uncle Guy. How much innocent blood stains are there?" Guy put his hands to his face and took a deep breath. He then rested them behind his head and crossed his ankles.

"I have made mistakes. People have had to die as punishments and as examples. But never wrongfully."

"…I heard you once cut a dozen people's tongues out in Locksley. Just because you wanted to find Robin." Guy swiftly sat up and put his hand to her chin, holding her face to his.

"Who?" He growled. And then he saw it. But somehow, it was different than ever before. People have been in his hands many times and fear had washed over their eyes in every instance. But when Lydia feared him, he felt an unsettled stir in his stomach. Gently, he closed his mouth and swallowed deep. Guy's hand moved softly from her jaw to sweeping stray strands of dark hair behind her ear. She was the only person he would never hurt regardless of the circumstances. Lydia turned away and stood to get some distance. She immediately admitted defeat and fell back to the bed. The sheets were marred by scarlet. "You're hurt." Guy stated emotionally.

"I went for a walk in the castle… I guess my wound opened back up." Or rather, she thought, it was from running through Locksley with Robin. Guy fled to the other side of her bed and began to tend to it. "I'll be fine."

"I don't like it." He muttered. When she said nothing, he repeated it again. "My job. My duties, the things I do to some people… I don't always like it. But it's for the greater good. In time you will see, my darling." Lydia stopped him and grabbed his hand. The fresh red line across it stabbed her with guilt.

"You're hurt." She whispered. He withdrew with hand with a small smirk.

"A scratch. We were ambushed in Locksley while collecting taxes. Don't think on it." He couldn't help but laugh when she said it was her fault. "Lydia, do not concern yourself with me." As she opened her mouth to reveal the truth, the door to her chamber flew open.

"You." Snarled the Sheriff, pointing a gloved finger at the girl Gisborne. "You, madam, are a liar, a cheat, and traitor." Sir Guy stood.

"What is this?"

"Shut up, Gisborne!" he spat. "My men saw you in Locksley." Lydia's blue eyes grew wide. "Yes, you little creature, outside of these walls. In the house of a town crier, tell me –" he stamped forward and leaned into her face, "- why am I not surprised? A clue: You are vermin." He grabbed the back of her head and tugged her hair hard. Guy grabbed the Sheriff's shoulder but hesitated to stop him. Was it true? Or was he telling more lies?

"Stop." Gisborne stated flatly. When he was ignored, he placed one hand on the Sheriff's throat and pushed him back to the wall. "Stop!" he screamed.

"You approve of her behavior?" the Sheriff sneered. "So much for being different."

"Don't you dare ever touch her. Ever. In any way, I don't care if you are shaking her hand. Do not get near her." Guy's voice was low and thundering. The Sheriff methodically waltzed up to his right hand man and touched his beard.

"Without over sight, the only way I can be sure she isn't hurt by outlaws is by keeping her in the dungeon." He batted his eyelashes in victory.

"She's hurt," Guy weakly stated. He sounded broken, "she needs to rest and be taken care of. She is bleeding." The Sheriff lightly pushed Guy back.

"Lah di da di da di da." he scoffed. As he reached for her hair again, the Sheriff suddenly fell to the ground. He was dazed and confused; it was almost as if someone had pulled his ankles… On the other side of the bed popped up Robin Hood.

"Sorry to let you down, mate," he smiled as he picked Lydia up, "but the lady must be going." Sir Guy hastily whipped his sword out and shook it readily in his hand. Robin looked at Guy softly and said, "She will be home before you know it." Guy was puzzled – what had he meant by that? And then it clicked. He simply nodded and let down his weapon, watching Hood take his niece safely back to his home in Locksley.


	6. She Needs Help

Sir Guy of Gisborne ran. He had run to his horse, had sprinted the beast to Locksley, and now charged from it to the front door of his home. He could only hope Robin had been honest and brought her here. Storming in the front door, the entire house was dark. Up the stairs, though, came a flicker of light. He dashed up two steps at a time and burst into the bedroom to find Lydia asleep in his bed and Robin sitting expectantly next to her. When the men made eye contact, the outlaw rose and proceeded out. Guy stretched his arm out and blocked the door.

"Is it true?" he muttered, staring at his niece, "Was she in Locksley?" Robin licked his lips, bit his lower lip, and nodded. Guy let out a heavy breath. "Those archers – they were trying to get her." Hood put his hands on his hips.

"I'm so sorry. But my men are working on it. I will come talk to her tomorrow. I will also bring my medicine man… her wound is looking worse." Guy barely nodded and let his enemy exit the doorway. When he hit the bottom of the stairs Sir Guy called out his name. Robin turned.

"….Thank you." He struggled to say it, but eventually the words left his lips. The outlaw nodded and disappeared. Guy shut the bedroom door and sat at the edge of the bed, removing his boots and gloves. He noted a damp rag on her forehead – she was developing a fever. An infection. He prepared another one for when it ran dry and placed it on the end table. Lying down next to her, fatigue slammed into him. It had been quite a day. His emotions were, for the first time in ages, strung out and over used. He closed his eyes, and then heard something soft that hit him strongly.

"Je n'ai pas savoir que t'habite ici." Lydia whispered, not having moved at all. Guy's face broke into a wide smile.

"I remember how fond your father was of our French heritage. Made sure we all could speak the language. But yes… I live in Locksley still." They laid in silence as Guy rolled over to his side to face her. "Tu me manque." He whispered in her ear. Lydia opened her eyes and rolled over to mirror him as they faced each other.

"I missed you too." He smirked and placed a hand on her cheek. It was very warm.

"You have grown, almost overnight. And become so beautiful… you look so much like your grandmother." This was it, Guy thought. This was what it felt like to love someone, to want to take care of someone, to be a father. It was in this moment he knew he would give up his place with the Sheriff just to have this. A small and sleepy conversation in French. "On doit obtenir du dormir." He gently said. Lydia laughed.

"You need to sleep, too. Do you think the Sheriff will be in a good mood tomorrow? A clue: no." They both cracked up at her joke. At least he wasn't the only one who hated his boss' sarcasm. And with that they both fell quiet and drifted off to sleep. Lydia dreamt of riding a horse through the forest; Sir Guy dreamt of this night never ending.

As the morning sun peeked over the windowsill, Guy was woken up by the sound of clattering on the nightstand. He rolled over quickly and prepared to fight, but he saw that it was just Robin Hood and a Saracen woman. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. Djaq went to Lydia and gently woke her as Robin watched, and Guy watched him. Gruffly with a frog in his throat, Guy asked: "Why are you doing this?" He casually grinned and looked back at the man in black.

"She needs help." He plainly stated. Guy looked back over to the women. Djaq was cleaning the wound as Lydia bit her lip. There was clearly a chunk missing from the back of her thigh – they had used a broad arrowhead so that when it was removed it would cause more damage. Guy's brain was still groggy from the deep and peaceful sleep, but even if he was thinking clearly he could not understand Hood's adamancy to help his niece. What profit was he getting? Maybe it was a ploy to get closer. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer…

"Take one of these twice a day." The Saracen said, handing Lydia a handful of rose pills wrapped in cloth. Guy slowly rose out of bed and brushed past Robin to get a new wet rag for her fever. He stopped at the window, however.

"Your men are surrounding my house." He noted coldly, turning a glare to Robin, who chuckled and licked his lips.

"In case you decided you didn't want the help, I needed an escape plan. Little John is a great escape plan." Djaq laughed at this and Lydia tugged a smile but Guy's face remained flat.

"Uncle Guy?" Lydia's voice waivered. The Sheriff's right hand man swiftly turned round and sat next to her on the bed, saying something in French which only they understood. Robin pondered – this was not the same Gisborne. Marian had told him that he was different, that he was a soft man with a hard shell, but the outlaw never bought it. Gisborne was a killer. Albeit a confused and lost man, but one who committed vicious crimes nonetheless. And yet, as he smiled told his niece not to apologize for being any trouble at all, Robin saw this alter ego. If he had love, he was capable of love. This drove him to protect Lydia even more.

"What can you tell me about the men who are doing this to you?" he muttered. Lydia held her uncle's hand and thought.

"Well, I have never really seen their faces. They fled after shooting my father, they always attack me from hideouts in public places, and they burned my house while I was gone… They are cowards who want to remain secretive." She bluntly replied to Robin. He shook his head.

"But what do you know? How am I supposed to find who is behind this?"

"Yellow." Gisborne said. "The arrow your men found her with was yellow. And just yesterday in Locksley…"

"Yellow feathers." Robin completed his sentence. "So it's professional, they have an allegiance to something or someone whose crest is yellow. Can you think of anyone near where you are from?" Lydia bounced the bag of pills up and down in her hand.

"No, I mean, I come from a poor village in the south of England. Most people there can't afford an allegiance and they don't all know their coat of arms so well."

"Right," Robin chirped as he clapped his hands, "I will get on that immediately. Now, if you like, I can leave one of my men here with you at all times to –"

"I can take care of my own family, Hood." Barked Sir Guy. Djaq flinched a bit and her leader let out a big sigh. He pursed his lips and nodded. After saying he will always be around, he and his Saracen vanished out the door.

"Will you help me now?" Lydia sweetly asked her uncle. He looked at her with a bit of a daze. "In clearing Robin's name, will you help me?" Guy let out a huff of air and pulled her close, resting her head on his shoulder.

"It's not so easy, ma petite. But I will keep him spared while he is helping us." He gently kissed the top of her head and stood. "Now, you need to eat something."

"Can we go to market, get some fresh fruit?" Her eyes lit up, ever since she saw the bustling market in Nottingham she had wanted to participate. But her uncle argued that she was ill and weak and every other reason she didn't want to hear. Eventually he broke and agreed to take her to market. They cleaned up and headed out, both on the same horse, towards Nottingham, trying to ignore the grief the Sheriff would create. But neither of them could have prepared for the tragedy that was about to come.


	7. No Pets in the House

He couldn't stop. The laughter was constant, the smile unceasing. As Sir Guy and Lydia milled about between food stands in the market square, he couldn't help but feel disconnected from himself. It was great though – this new Guy of Gisborne didn't ever want to go back to the old Guy of Gisborne. For the first time, he could say he was genuinely happy and not question it.

"Right then," Lydia chuckled as she stood between two booths, holding different fruit in each hand, "Plums or peaches?" Her grin was so infectious.

"Well," chipped in one of the merchants, "My peaches are fresh picked this morning. Got them to Nottingham before the sunlight came out, I did." Sir Guy turned to the plum monger for his rebuttal.

"That may be so," he sneered, glaring at the peaches, "But my plums are grown here outside Nottingham, not but a mile away. Fresh and local, just how it should be."

"Oh yeah?" Gisborne laughed, "And fresher than his then?"

"Sure as the earth revolves around the sun!" the plum merchant chimed. Guy then walked over to the peach monger and asked: "What do you say to that?" But he got no answer, just a few moments of a vacant stare. Then the man feel dead onto his produce, an arrow with yellow feathers stuck straight between his shoulder blades. Civilians screamed and children cried as every swept out of the square. Sir Guy put his arm around Lydia and held her close, trying to cover her as much as possible. Sword drawn, he scanned the surroundings and saw no archers.

"You cowards!" he screamed, spitting. "Is this how you deal with your enemies? By hiding in failure after you miss your target?" Nottingham guards began to pour in and defended the Gisbornes. Arrows began to fly from seemingly nowhere and take out armored men left and right. The screams died down and the only thing Guy could hear was his own breath. He held Lydia's face to his and said: "Get inside the castle. Now." But she couldn't move. The girl was paralyzed by fear. "Alle-toi!" he yelled at her out of fear. One guard took her safely under his arm and began to lead her towards the castle gate.

"Yeah," came a new voice, "Allons-y ma cherie!" An arrow dove straight for Lydia but became lodged in the shoulder of her protector. Guy ran, grabbed his niece, and fled inside the gate without a word. They busted into the foyer of the castle and fell to the ground at the Sheriff's feet. But they paid him no mind.

"Lydia, are you hurt? Are you okay, did they hit you?" Guy's words ran together into a string of panic as he looked her over for blood. She waved him off and claimed to be fine. The Sheriff then cleared his throat.

"Gisborne – no pets in the house." He snarled. Guy stood and glared at him, inches away from his face.

"Archers are in your town now trying to kill her." Disdainfully he looked at Guy's niece and pulled a piece of wood, shrapnel from an arrow's shaft, from her hair.

"Well then, best keep her out of sight… where is it that we put people in here that we don't want seen or known about? Oh yes! That's right –"

"You will not imprison her. She has done nothing about the rumors of Hood. She just needs to stay safe." Guy's voice had hit a new low. His determination was even to even make the Sheriff purse his lips.

"If I see your little ragdoll again, I get my way with her. And I choose what exactly that entails." His dark smile made the Gisbornes shiver as he ran a light caress down Lydia's cheek. And just like that, he was off.

The tea was still hot but neither of them had the stomach to drink it. The smell itself was unsettling. Sir Guy of Gisborne, toughened by his leather jacket, was sitting on his bed, weakened by cradling his niece. "I shouldn't have brought us outside. It was dumb." She said sorrowfully.

"No," Guy retorted, "I shouldn't have let us go. I should have noticed we were being followed, I should have…. I should have been able to protect you."

"I am still in one piece aren't I?" she smiled meekly. Guy chewed his tongue, replaying the siege in his mind repeatedly. Suddenly, he became very still, so still that even his breathing stopped. "Uncle Guy?" Lydia asked quizzically, feeling the difference in his body.

"He yelled at you." The words barely fell from his mouth.

"Everyone was yelling, you sod." She chuckled, gently tapping his shoulder. But Guy simply shook his head in a slow and eerie way.

"After I told you to get inside, he yelled, 'Allons-y, ma cherie.'" Lydia's face screwed up. Guy collapsed his body forward and fell onto her stomach. He rested his head against her belly and listened to her breathe. "They are French." He whispered, "Just like us."

"At least we know a lot more now." Came an Irishman's voice. The Gisbornes looked up to see Robin of Locksley sitting perched on the windowsill. Guy rolled his eyes and muttered: "Hood." The outlaw grinned and made his way over to the bed, leaning on the bottom bolster. "One of my men heard about a shootout in Nottingham – how did I know you were involved?" He flashed a wink at Lydia and handed her a warm smile. Guy cleared his throat put on a sour face just for the occasion.

"So then now what?" Lydia timidly asked, knowing that there was no road to go down.

"We purge Nottingham and every surrounding village of each Frenchman they have. Question them, and punish them." Guy's voice was cold and unwavering. Robin gave him a look of bewilderment and shook his head.

"No, Gisborne. That's not the answer. We have to draw them out. Carefully. Choose a place where no one innocent is in danger and camp out. Wait for them to come to her." Guy lifted Lydia from his lap and stood ferociously next to Hood.

"Are you out of your bleeding mind? They want her _dead._ With every attempt they are learning and getting stronger – "

"Robin is right." Lydia convicted. Guy's shock could not be hidden on his face as he collapsed to sit next to her. "No one says all of them are French, anyways. They could have alliances with Englishmen here. Straining information from innocent men will provide nothing." Sir Guy was becoming frustrated. It seemed he could not ever do the right thing in her eyes. He finally had a scrap of affection; he had someone to love who cared for him in return. He would not let it slip through his fingers.


	8. I Don't Want People To Die

"You know," Sir Guy said heavily, "you don't have to do this." His head rested heavy in his hands as he sat at the edge of the bed. There were many nights in his Locksley estate where he could not sleep, but this would be the worst of them. His night clothes were so suffocating, he was so uncomfortable, and he couldn't sit still due to anxiety. Lydia, seated at the desk, stopped brushing her hair to answer him.

"Uncle Guy, tomorrow it will all be over. No more sleeping with one eye open or running or watching people die to protect me. I can live in peace again, here, with you." For a few moments his worry washed away.

"You want to stay with me?" he whispered. He was wanted. Sir Guy of Gisborne's company was desired, his smile was looked for, and his ideas were cherished. Lydia shrugged with a small grin.

"I just figured we got on so well, I could stay here in Locksley with you." Everyday could be like this morning, he thought to himself. They could go to market and but fresh foods and new clothes, go riding through Sherwood forest together, they could have dinner parties… Sir Guy of Gisborne could be happy. The only way it could happen, he remembered, was if she became a sitting duck for the archers and trusted Robin Hood.

"You don't have to do this." He repeated with much more certainty. Lydia downed a rose pill and went to sit next to her distraught uncle. Leaning her head on his shoulder, she let out a deep breath and said: "Well, if you can think of a better way that doesn't get anyone else hurt I'm all ears." Guy sniffed and snapped his head up to look out the window. Getting people hurt, is that all she thinks he does? Is he really still a killer in her eyes and is she just playing along for safety's sake?

"I don't want people to die." Guy grunted. Lydia sat straight up and raised an eyebrow.

"Who said you did?" She inquired. Sir Guy looked deep into her eyes, the same light blue eyes he had, and just breathed deeply. Eventually he muttered: "I'm no killer. I don't take pleasure in bloodshed." He stood and went around the room blowing out the candles. He was done talking and hurting – it was time for bed.

"Uncle Guy… I don't believe you do. I have no reason to." He remained silent and lay down on top of the covers and crossed his ankles. "Je sais que tu es un bon homme. " She lied next to him and put her hand on his chest. "Je pense que… Je pense que la monde dit qui nous sommes temps au temps." Moments of nothingness passed. Then, as she began to close her eyes, Guy responded.

"Yes. The world does dictate who we are at times. And situations have made me a man I never planned to be, but… get your rest, Lydia. You need to be as alert as possible in the morning." And with that, he walled himself off. It did not matter who he used to be, did it? Wasn't it important who Lydia made him want to become?

Hours passed and as his niece snored softly Guy only became more and more restless. She would die later today, he just knew it. He would lose the good in his life yet again. Soon this joy would fade away and he would be alone once more, the highlights of his days would return to being spat at by the Sheriff. It felt like years that he laid there sweating anxiously. His thoughts were running so fast minutes became days to him. But, after an agonizing trial of will, dawn came. And so did the signal. Guy didn't even flinch when Robin's arrow flew through the window and into the headboard – he was too numb. Numb about it all. His brain had an informational and emotional overload and now he felt dead. Nothing had a point anymore, not if he was going to escort his niece to her death.

The arrow had startled Lydia awake and she quickly hopped out of bed to get dressed. After changing, she rushed back into the bedroom to pull up her hair and noticed Guy had not moved. She wasn't even sure if he had blinked since she left.

"Uncle Guy," she nudged his shoulder gently, "we have to go now. To the Woods." If it wasn't for the rise and fall of his chest it would be obvious he was dead. Without a word, Sir Guy rose and changed his shirt. Carelessly throwing on his boots, he walked out the door and down the stairs. Lydia's face was screwed up in confusion as they went out of the estate to Guy's horse. Still silent, he helped lift her up onto the rear of the horse and mounted himself. Snapping the reigns, the white stallion smoothly trotted off toward Sherwood forest. Lydia had her arms wrapped around her uncle's waist for stability, but as they left Locksley she leaned onto him and rested on his back. She knew he felt unsure about this idea. And he was bound to hate it more because it was all devised by Robin Hood. But at this point, she feared words would only make matters worse.

About three hundred yards in, they spotted Much at the left side of the road. He signaled that the trap was complete. Guy rode past without so much as a nod, which led Much to scoff and shake his head before returning to Robin. Another few hundred yards passed under the horse's hooves and Allan-A-Dale stood at the right of the road. He signaled that the archers had been spotted in the forest. Guy's heart fell deep inside of him, below his stomach and even past his knees. The childish hope that the archers would not appear was just shattered and now there was no turning back.

They reached the designated point, a small clearing in Sherwood, and dismounted. Lydia pulled a blanket from a bag on the horse's hip and spread it out. Gingerly, she lowered herself down and sat. Sir Guy remained by the horse, looking into its eyes as if the horse could change the circumstances.

"How is your leg?" Guy asked, hoping she didn't notice the quiver in his voice.

"Hurts like hell." Was her answer. But only she smiled. Of course, her heart was about to beat right out of her chest. Her nerves were a wreck and she could barely keep her thoughts straight. But she couldn't focus on the storm that was approaching, unlike her brooding uncle. "Uncle Guy, aren't you going to come sit next to me and enjoy the weather?" He sorrowfully looked at her fragile frame and sat down. She was so young and feminine – they would have no trouble hurting her. He took her hand tightly into his and told himself to never let it go. He looked up into the second tallest oak tree, as he was instructed the night before, and saw Robin perched with his bow. His nod said that everything was going to plan.

But nothing settled the churning panic within Sir Guy of Gisborne. And then a new level of terror hit him. This could be his last chance to tell her how she made him feel, how she had changed his hard soul. He missed that opportunity with Marian and he would not stand idly by again.

"Lydia," he turned his head to her and looked down at their intertwined fingers, "These past few days of getting to know you… I – I am so glad you came to Nottingham. You see-" but there he had to stop, because four yellow feathered arrows had rained down and pinned the corners of the blanket into the earth.


	9. Je Ne Te Connais Pas

This was it. No turning back, no redo's. Lydia's life was now in the hands of God and fortune itself. From every direction came men with swords and maces in hand. Their uniforms were yellow with black trim. Sir Guy stood and held Lydia close to his chest, he could feel her breath on his neck and he knew it could be the last one she took.

"I think you will find," Snickered one of the Frenchmen, "that you are completely surrounded. Now, if you would kindly die a slow and painful death, I would be very grateful." Guy slowly slid his sword from its sheath.

"You will not touch her." He growled. The man looked to his left, and then his right, and licked his lips. With a chuckle he stated: "We don't plan to. We plan to kill her in front of you then take your head off of your shoulders." Guy nervously examined the men's faces.

"Me? What do you want with me?" his answer, though, did not arrive. Arrows flew down throughout the clearing except for in the center where the Gisbornes stood. Several Frenchmen were hit, but many remained. Robin emerged from the trees, bow drawn, slowly approaching the commanding general.

"I think you will find," he smugly nodded, "that you are completely surrounded." Much, Djaq, and Little John entered the make shift arena and were prepared to fight. Unbeknownst to the Frenchmen, Much and Allan where resetting the arrow launchers as Will kept watch in a tree, bow drawn. "How many men do you have, 50?" robin smiled and licked his lips, "Look at all these arrows – I have over a hundred men stationed here. I don't appreciate people causing a ruckus in my forest." A handful of men attempted to make a pass at Robin, but Little John swiftly put them in their place.

"Do you know who this man is?" the commander snarled. "Guy. A disgrace to France, his entire family deserves to be wiped off the earth for what he has done to our country."

"What?" Guy yelled, balancing his sword, "You are hurting her because you have some arbitrary dislike – "

"Hardly arbitrary!" The Frenchman snapped. "Your family was given titles. I believe you still prefer to parade around as 'Sir Guy of Gisborne.' You are a killer. A stone cold murderer who thirsts for blood as Saracens thirst for water." Guy charged for him but Robin shot off an arrow in his path to stop him. The man continued. "You oppress the people of England and you take every penny they earn and for what? Not even the French can see a positive change in this God forsaken country."

"You want to kill an innocent girl because her distant relative works for a scum Sheriff?" Little John's bewilderment permeated his words. The man began to rant on about the status of the title of Gisborne, but Robin had heard enough. He shot the mace from the man's hand and instructed him to leave. When this request was not answered, Hood launched an arrow straight into the air. Much saw his signal and triggered the arrow traps. Another storm of spears fell upon the clearing and began an all-out battle between the outlaws and the French. Guy fought with more passion than he had in years. As Djaq led Lydia out of the war zone, it still seemed too unreal. Her father had been murdered and her house burned because her uncle worked for a crude man. She leaned against a tree and closed her eyes to pretend it was a joke from her imagination. But the battle cries of clashing of metal just bolstered the fact that hate had gotten so far out of hand. Time passed and all fell quiet. Lydia looked to see only one surviving Frenchman, the arrogant leader, pinned against a tree by her uncle Guy and Robin. She wandered back out and stood among Hood's men. Robin was giving him a fair threat.

"Go back to your superiors," he coldly warned, "and tell them that the Gisbornes are under the protection of Robin Hood. We will not sleep and we will not stop until our people are safe. Is that clear?" The man slowly grew a smile.

"We have rumors of Hood in France. They like to say you are a good man – but I now see your allegiance lies with oppressors and filthy, unclean women." Guy grabbed him by the throat and squeezed his windpipe closed with his gloved hand.

"Gisborne!" Robin shouted. Calmly, he continued, "Let him go. He's nothing but words." The Frenchman saw the hate beaming from Guy's scowl and returned a look of true fear. "Put him down." Robin coolly eased. Sir Guy nodded furiously and threw the man to the ground, stamped his foot onto the man's chest, and shoved his sword tip to the man's throat. Little beads of blood decorated the end of it. "Gisborne…" Robin warned, cautiously approaching him. He thought he could pull him back, bring the noble back to the side of reason. But he had gone too far off the end of rationale to turn away now.

"Which one of your men shot her?" he rumbled. Given only a second to answer, Guy then stomped his foot hard against his chest, clearly breaking some ribs. "Who hurt her?" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Hood's men wanted to intervene, but they were as paralyzed as Lydia. Her kind uncle who took her to buy fruit was now torturing a man. Robin had been right. The man closed his eyes and gasped: "It was me." Guy cocked his head to the side.

"I want you to know the pain she has suffered." Guy hissed, pressing more weight into his foot. The man cried in pain.

"Uncle Guy!" Lydia gasped, barely able to form words. But she was unheard. "But more than that, I want you to die."

"Gisborne!" Robin yelled, making a dive for his sword, but it was too late. Sir Guy viciously plunged his weapon down through the man's throat and into the ground. Blood began to rush out of his mouth and Guy withdrew the sword. Satisfied, he watched the man suffocate and bleed. He never broke eye contact with him until he died.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Robin shrieked. Guy glanced at him and then switched his train of thought – Lydia. He snapped his gaze to the right to see her horrified, tears staining her cheeks, mouth agape. He looked down and dropped his sword next to the man's bloody corpse. He opened his arms and walked slowly towards her.

"Lydia," he smiled, "it's over. Just like you said." She violently shook her head.

"Don't you dare say my name. Don't. Don't look at me, don't talk to me, don't." His arms fell to his side. Guy did not understand, he saved her life and avenged her pain. What more could he do?

"My love-"

"Je ne te connais pas!" she screeched. "Je ne te connais pas!" Lydia turned and ran into the woods bawling, sick to her stomach, and feeling betrayed. Robin looked once more at Sir Guy of Gisborne and ran into the woods after his niece.


	10. Snake Bite

This had to be the last time. There was nothing left in her body to vomit, so she had to be done already. Hood's gang sat in silence in their hideout as Robin tried to calm Lydia down.

"What will you do now?" he softly asked as he ran his hand through her soft black hair. After watching her uncle murder that man, it seemed as though fifteen years had been added to her face. But Lydia just shook her head.

"I have no idea… I have nothing left in the south. Apparently I can't trust Guy because he is the bloodthirsty swine you said he was, and I just…. I have no idea." Robin kissed her temple and whispered to her: "Sir Guy of Gisborne is a good man." Lydia shoved him away. "Is that some sort of sick joke?" Robin smiled and shook his head.

"Before we were married, he showed my wife incredible compassion. I used to think he was this evil, dark hearted man, but I see he is just an affection deprived confused soul. Marian brought out the same fantastic human being you drew out of him. People who see beyond that military shell let him be the good man he is." These words bounced around her head for a bit.

"So then, your wife, eh? I should have known you were taken." Robin solemnly licked his lips.

"Marian is dead. She was killed in the Holy Land." Her eyes reflected sorrow. She put a hand to his cheek and said: "Robin, I am so sorry. Did you ever… find out who did it?" Much's laughter broke the depressive air. Everybody held their breath and did their best to hide the truth.

"Oh my God, he killed your wife, too!" Lydia began to work herself up into a fluster when Robin took her hands into his.

"But I forgive him."

"How?"

"Because… he feels shame for it every day. He loved her, and his own violence took her from him. She did not die in vain – rather, she taught him a lesson. And believe it or not, I can see that he took it to heart." Djaq came over and squatted behind Robin.

"He does not see the error of his ways. He ticks based on an eye for an eye logic. He wanted to do good for you!" Allan scoffed and put in his own word.

"Yeah, so he killed a defenseless man and let him die slowly." Robin shot a warning towards Allan and went back to the female Gisborne.

"Sweetheart, you have to forgive him. He is one of the most ridiculous men I have ever met – but he simply does not stop and think. That is his only failing." With that, the group fell silent.

He didn't even know what number he was on. Eight, nine? Either way, it was not enough. He needed as much liquor as his body could hold. Sir Guy sat alone at the dinner table in his estate, desperately trying to wash down the taste of self-hate in his mouth. Inevitably, he had succeeded in shoving away the only positivity he had. Like a with snake bite, he had cut that chunk of himself out. His fingers fumbled over the jewels on the hair pin. It seemed like just yesterday he had given this to her. Of course, she had to have been seven at the oldest, but he was already a prisoner to her charm. His beautiful, logical, radical niece travelled to the other side of England to see him and brought the ornament he had given to her over half her life ago. And now she was gone. He had fought her away and could not consume enough to make him forget it. At least, he hoped, he could drink enough to pass out and get some rest. Thunder whispered in the distance and let on a hint of the storm that would approach that night. It reminded him of the storm that brewed inside of him when he thought Lydia would die. He had kept her alive but lost her nonetheless.

His mind was so numbed from depression and alcohol that he barely registered the knock at the door. Using rather foul language, he bluntly told the visitor to leave him be. But the knocking continued. Downing the rest of the goblet in one gulp, he slammed the cup to the table and trudged to the door. Violently swinging it open, he prepared a monologue of insults. But his face fell calm when he saw Lydia standing meekly on the porch. Her eyes were bloodshot from tears and her face worn with stress. Without a word, Guy extended his hand. Gently, she placed hers in his and allowed him to lead her inside. Neither of them spoke.

With a tight smile, Lydia took her free hand and pushed Sir Guy's hair back out of his face. His eyes were as swollen and red as her own. Suddenly he pulled her close and they stood in the center of the house hugging, pretending that they didn't want to cry about the day. He turned his head and whispered in her ear: "I am so sorry, ma petite. I never want to hurt you." She pulled out of his embrace and gave him a wry look.

"Il n'y a pas de crois." She laughed. Guy cupped her face in his hands and stared into her exhausted eyes.

"You want to stay in Locksley? With me?" Her smile spread as she nodded mildly. Sir Guy's grin spread from ear to ear as he pulled her in and kissed her forehead.

"So then," she quietly spoke, as if it were a secret, "do you want to go to market tomorrow?"


End file.
